


Burned Out

by thecurlyginger



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Ben-centric, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 02:58:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2093067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecurlyginger/pseuds/thecurlyginger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben can't get over his breakup with Leslie because he's always dragged back in to her life. Set after after "Pawnee Rangers" through "Smallest Park."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burned Out

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, another Parks and Rec fic. Gotta pass my time somehow! This one's a little more angsty, but we all know how it turns out. Enjoy!

Ben is still reeling from his breakup with Leslie. He moved to Pawnee for her, though he never vocalized it, and he can't hold it against her now even when he's stuck in the shadows behind her brilliance. Pawnee doesn't feel like home without having her by his side. It really _sucks_ doing the right thing for the one you... care deeply about.

For now he's trying to keep his distance from the Parks Department. That means no more popping his head in to see what they're up to when it's not work-related. Though he's continually dragged in, be it metaphorically when he heeds Leslie's call or literally when Donna and Tom abduct him to treat himself, he is steadfast in the belief that it's time to call it off. Ben can do this; he just has to pass by Parks every time he wants to leave City Hall, so it's all about restraint. He's walking down the hallway toward the exit to grab a coffee from the cart outside when he hears Ron's distinct voice yelling, “Good _God_ , woman!” Peaking a sideways glace, he sees Donna, Jerry, and April all abandon their station to see Leslie – a pinker, miserable looking, sunburnt Leslie. April places her hand on Leslie's arm, watching the handprint appear on her skin and then vanish while Leslie hisses in pain.

Ben lingers by the doorway as Leslie, wearing a sleeveless blouse without her signature blazer, painfully removes her bag from her shoulder. “Get it all out of your systems, guys. Ann here certainly did _not_ earn the Friendship Badge this weekend, as she forgot to remind me to put on copious amounts of sunscreen. I need your best remedies because my meet and greet with Pawnee's business owners is in two days and I couldn't even put makeup on this morning, let alone sleeves.”

Her sunburn starts where Ben assumes a short-sleeved shirt cut off past her shoulders. Pink marks her neck down to the top of her chest, and her face almost as red as the cherries she eats from her mixed drinks. He feels badly for her, if not a little, teeny bit amused.

Ann offers a bottle of green goop. “Apply this aloe to your burned areas. It should soothe the pain and help with some of the redness.” Leslie takes it with a slight smile.

“I have an old family recipe,” April begins. “Rub butter all over and stand outside in the sun.”

“She's trying to get better, not get a crispy crust,” Donna retorts. “How about this?”

Before long, the room dissolves into arguments over the best remedies. Ben takes that as his cue to slip out, but he pulls out his phone to send her his tried and tested method. “Hey, sorry about the sunburn. If you want the redness to go away, brew a bunch of green tea bags in a pot, then pour the tea and the bags into a bath of lukewarm water. Soak in there for a bit. Always worked on me and my sister when we were kids.” Then he's off to get that coffee and then back to work, only occasionally glancing back at his phone in case she responds.

It's nearly lunch when Ben feels a vibration in his pocket. He receives a text from Leslie: “I stole half a dozen tea bags from the employee lunch room... Thanks for the tip! I guess word travels through City Hall when there's a human lobster afoot.” Just as he puts his phone back in his pocket, it vibrates again with another message. “Imagining a young Benji Wyatt sunburnt from playing outside pretending to be Captain Kirk on a mysterious alien planet makes me feel better too. :)” He wants to jokingly text her that he regrets telling her about that aspect of his childhood, but he puts the phone down and eats alone. He can't keep getting involved; it reminds him of what they had and how much he's lost.

Andy and April keep Ben occupied that evening as they play hide and seek. When it's Andy's turn, without fail, he exclaims “Found ya” every time he passes Ben.

“I'm not hiding,” Ben argues while perusing the forums online, but Andy is already back to opening doors and slamming them closed on his hunt for April. A beep sounds, prompting Ben to retrieve his phone from where he left it on the kitchen table. It's a text from Leslie. He sighs, frustrated by the way his heart races in response, and opens it.

“This bath is amazing,” it reads, and Ben's mind instantly goes to an image of Leslie naked and stretched out in the tub. He practically slams the phone down and goes back to the couch, refusing to check the phone even though it beeps a few more times throughout the evening. He takes the phone into his bedroom only to charge it, ignoring the flashing red light. It can't be that important, he figures, or else whoever texted him would call. In reality, he knows it's probably just Leslie sending him more bath updates.

Guiltiness races through him as he tries to sleep. Ben wishes he could be friends with Leslie and fill the void their breakup caused. But it's not that simple. When he sees her, he doesn't just see an ex-girlfriend or a co-worker. He sees the entirety of her being – the way she brightens up a room and betters the lives of those around her. And now, even by just texting, Leslie can still reach him and remind him of the time they spent together. There's no escaping Leslie Knope in Pawnee because she _is_ Pawnee, she is everything about this town. What might be worst of all is that she's everything to Ben, and living without her physically drains him.

Knowing he won't be able to sleep without checking his phone, Ben illuminates the screen, squinting at the bright light. He has four texts, all from her.

Leslie (7:42pm): Definitely feeling better and looking less like a strawberry milkshake.

Leslie (7:43pm): And now I'm craving a strawberry milkshake.

Leslie (9:37pm): Sorry for bothering you. I'll leave you alone.

Leslie (10:03pm): Is that what you want?

How can Ben convey that it is what he wants and simultaneously the exact opposite of what he wants? To be honest, what he truly wants has been forfeited so she can have what she wants. While saying, “I want what you want” looks noble in the movies, it feels like utter bullshit. No matter how much he wants to see her in city council, he wants to be by her side even more. Though he tries to draft text responses, nothing surmounts to how he feels. He gives up, deciding to sleep on it.

In the morning, he passes by Parks and sees only Leslie at her desk, typing away. Ben walks in cautiously and knocks lightly on her door to get her attention. “Do I seem less-pink to you? The answer is yes. And it's all thanks to you!” She's beaming and adorable, and Ben just wants to kiss her cheeks – lightly of course to avoid irritating her burn.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” And it's as if the happy-go-lucky Leslie act is dropped. She has the pensive look of someone who knows a heavier conversation is coming; she can barely look him in the eye as she nods. “Look, you're busy with this so I don't want to take up too much of your time. I just... I'm here for you, okay? But I also can't be. Does that makes sense?”

Leslie ponders his words. “Not really?” He's about to be more forward when Tom calls to inform her the hotel's ballroom is all ready for the meet and greet. “I'm really sorry, Ben. I have to run, but we'll talk about this later okay?”

“Okay,” he says to her retreating form. It's really not, though.

The worst part about holding things in is that words are harder to soften when you're pushed to the limit. Ben's limit, it seems, is being taken to an old gas station on the night a cult dubs the end of the world. When he tells Leslie they need to move on, he doesn't feel better for it, nor does he feel like he has moved on. He just feels like he's still at the end of his rope. Ben doesn't go to the party with Shawna, and though there's relief when Leslie appears to have gotten the message, there's still that void. It increases tenfold when he realizes he can't spend any time with her without getting angry and flustered and inciting a war at Model UN, ruining the day for a bunch of high school kids. How could everything have gone downhill so quickly?

Then he's reached his lowest point – he goes to Andy for advice. “You used to live in a pit right?” Ben asks while drinking his second beer of the evening on their couch. April is visiting her parents or else Ben wouldn't approach a serious, personal conversation with a ten-foot pole.

“Yeah,” Andy replies with humor, not an ounce of shame in his voice. “I don't really recommend it though. Are you thinking of moving into a pit? 'Cause I can lower the rent. We need you here, man.”

At least someone needs him, Ben thinks before gaining back his train of though. “How do you get out of the pit? And not a real pit. But like, the pit you were in when you were trying to get over Ann.” He squints his eyes at his metaphor. It's still up in the air whether the beer is helping or hurting him talk at this point.

“You've gotta hit the bottom sometimes before you realize how badly you need to get out. My bottom was a concussion. Don't get one of those.” Andy gets up to grab a beer for himself. Ben doesn't feel like going into details at all, but he thanks Andy for his surprisingly insightful advice. They watch a movie until April gets home, and Andy gives Ben a slight smile to indicate the conversation will stay between them.

It's laughable, how much Ben loves and hates Leslie's insistence sometimes. Right now, the gauge is pointing to hate, anger bubbling to the surface so quickly that he has no choice but to wrap a comically small ribbon around their park, their last project together, and cut it before she can even say anything to him. That was never his intention. He wanted to walk up with pride over remembering the scissors, maybe hug her and explain how he feels rationally. When he returns to his office, he puts his head in his hands and takes a few deep breaths, knowing that he's torn the metaphorical bandaid off. This will be better in the end, even if he's cynical and bitter about it now.

Ann Perkins is the last person he expects in his office the next morning. Before she arrives, he's anticipating a few apologetic gifts, maybe some texts and voicemails, and an office visit from Leslie. Ann pleads with him to hear Leslie out, insisting that Leslie isn't behind her visit. There's some truth to that, Ben figures, as he rarely sees Ann without Leslie even if he works in the same building as she does. This is entirely unlike the steamroller technique he's used to, so he begrudgingly agrees and texts Leslie that he'll meet her at the park tonight to talk.

It's dark, but like a beacon of hope and all that's good in the world, the smallest park in Indiana is lit with a charming miniature garden and bench. Leslie's sitting right in the middle where she belongs, Ben knows, as the light of Pawnee, the light of his life that he has to push away. Her demeanor is dimmed some, and he knows it's because of him. When she invites him to sit, Ben thinks that this bench, this park, is suited for two. He admits to her in the near dead silence that he doesn't want to stop seeing her, but it's what's best. Ben moves to walk away like it's the most painful thing he's ever done, like he's breaking up with her all over again.

“So let's just say screw it.” Not the most romantic words but certainly among the best he's heard throughout his entire life. Kissing Leslie Knope after so long is like inhaling deeply after nearly drowning under water. He's been drowning for so long without her that he refuses to break off the kiss. There's something wet on his cheeks. Someone's crying, he thinks, and finally Leslie leans back, wiping tears off his face. “I'm sorry,” she tells him.

Part of Ben wants to act innocent and question her, but he drops the act and thinks that if they're going to do this, they can't just forget their time apart. “I'm sorry too,” he replies because he hasn't been fair or open either. They kiss again before agreeing to meet back at her place to properly forgive each other, each movement and touch slow to savor the return of what was lost.

As Leslie lays against his chest sleeping, Ben feels something warm in his chest. It feels like coming home.

 


End file.
